


Slipping Between The Cracks

by KirkyPet



Series: How Furiosa Lost her Arm and Narrowly Avoided Becoming a Wife [7]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Gen, Pre-Mad Max: Fury Road, Unexpected Allies, Warboy crash course, evasive manoeuvres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 09:35:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9541760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KirkyPet/pseuds/KirkyPet
Summary: In any administration, if the proper paperwork isn’t filled in, people get overlooked. The Citadel is no exception.





	

“New recruit for you!” The two women standing by the window visibly jumped at the sudden intrusion. The Organic Mechanic’s assistant barged into the Vault, dragging Furiosa behind him. One of the women, with more tattoos than Furiosa had ever seen on one body, stepped forward. “We weren’t expecting anyone. We haven’t made any preparations!” she protested.   

“Surprise, surprise, then!” he thrust Furiosa forward. She staggered slightly and stood warily in the circular room. The other woman, tall and proud like a queen, looked at her with an expression of undisguised disdain. “She can’t be a breeder – she’s crooked. Doesn't the Immortan care about his heirs these days? Is he so desperate?” She stepped forward and gestured at Furiosa. “Look at her. She’s got an arm missing. Tainted! It’s disgusting to bring her here, _here_ of all places. What are you trying to do?” Furiosa, taken aback, was about going to protest at this unprovoked onslaught but, on second thoughts, kept silent. She’d seen a fleeting expression in the tall woman’s eye when she looked at her. It wasn’t a wink, or anything so unsubtle, just a look that said, _Trust me_.  

Imperiously, the angry woman turned to the assistant, a hamster-faced boy with patchy dark hair and teeth like a kicked-in fence. “Go to the Organic and tell him to do his job!” she spat. The tattooed woman added, “Leave the girl here and we’ll send for you when she’s ready for examination.” The assistant grinned unpleasantly at Furiosa and shuffled out.  

***** 

Furiosa stood facing them, with signs of recent grief and dogged defiance. The tattooed woman looked at her thoughtfully. “ _I know your eyes_ …seen them before, but in a different face. Same expression too…” She thought for a moment and shook her head.  

“Who are you, girl? How did you get brought here?” asked the tall woman, in a more conciliatory tone that she’d used previously, though that wouldn’t be a challenge.  

“They took me... killed my mother. Said they needed breeders…” Furiosa’s voice shook with repressed sobs.   

“But not to give warning? Doesn’t sound like she’s come through official channels” mused the tattooed woman. “That was a quick spot, seeing her one arm, Lyra. I assume you’re ahead of me on this.” The tall woman nodded. “We might get her away from here without a fuss.”  

Furiosa looked at them curiously. “Are you prisoners too?”  

“Yes” the tall woman replied, dully. “Everyone here is owned by _Immortan Joe_.” The venom in her tone was indisputable. “He controls the water. So he controls all of us.”  

“Not the skeleton men, though?” Furiosa asked.  

“Especially them. They just don’t _know_ they’re prisoners.”  

“How can someone own the water?”  

“It’s hidden, deep below this rock. Only he controls the pumps…”  

“People here are things, his tools to be used. Their lives in useless wars, their bodies for breeding, their blood, their milk, their strength…”  

Furiosa’s head was aching with the rapidity of their words.  

“But listen” hissed the tall woman. “We don’t have much time. You’ve been brought here as a breeder – do you know what that means?”  

“I…think so” Furiosa replied. Her mother’s words came back to her…the serious, earnest conclusion to the talk they’d had…seemed so long ago now, though only a few months past. _Don’t ever treat anyone like that, or let anyone do that to you, ok?_   

“You don’t want to be a breeder…listen to me” the tall woman continued, grabbing Furiosa’s wrist. “You’re lured here with food and water, and don’t have to work or fight, but you have no idea…”  

The room is spinning. Furiosa tries to listen, to stop the rising panic. Then she hits upon the thought she’s been searching for, something she’d been missing. “Is that why you said I was crooked – because of my arm?” she blurts out.  

“Were you born without an arm?” was the stern reply. It wasn’t a question.  

“Yes. And my brother had no legs.” Furiosa declared.  

“That’s the girl” nodded the tall woman, approvingly.  

“The water was bad where I was born, nothing would grow right.” Furiosa was getting the hang of it now.  

“She’s got the idea. Okay, but it’s not that simple. They won’t just pat you on the head and drive you back home again. You’ll be thrown off the lift to the Wretched if they can’t find another use for you pretty quick. And they won’t go out of their way to find a job for you.”  

“No careers advisor in this place” the tattooed woman agreed.  

“What can you do?” the tall woman asked. 

“I can fight. I’m a good shot. Can ride a motorbike.” Furiosa replied determinedly. _And I can tell stories_. 

Something in the gangly urchin’s face and wiry frame made them less surprised than they might otherwise have been. “But what about your arm?” the tattooed woman asked. 

“Didn’t need it. Got by without.”  

“That’s right, you don’t miss what you never had, right?” she prompted. 

“No.”  

“She could be a War Boy” suggested the tall woman. “It’s a hard life…and short” replied the tattooed woman, looking pained.  “But better than the Wretched have, I’ll bet.” 

“Couldn’t I just run? Leave?” Furiosa pleaded. 

“With no water? And what if they follow you, just to see where you were heading? If you ever made it that far.”  

Furiosa imagined a Green Place overrun with skeleton men. If it hadn’t happened already.  

“No – stay here. Survive. Get stronger if you can. Make plans.” The tall woman’s eyes had a detached intensity as she said this. “I’ve made so many plans…” she muttered to herself.  

“What do I need to know?” Furiosa asked the tattooed woman, as she started to move restlessly about the room.  

“Take a new name. What is your name anyway?”   

“Furiosa.”  

“Good. But too much of a girl’s name. Something more neutral. Short. Mechanical. They worship machines here.”  

“Don’t be a girl” the tall woman added. “Girls don’t fare well here. Bind up your chest, when you get one. They’ll shave your head, paint you white…”  

“The Boys here don’t live long. They either get sick or throw themselves at death – usually both. If you don’t get sick, and don’t die, questions might be asked.”  

“Joe is their god. They want to die for him…to go to Valhalla.”  

Furiosa remembered the skeleton boy and his gesture. She made a V8 with her hands.  

“That’s right” nodded the tattooed woman hurriedly.  

“Who is this Joe?” Furiosa asked, baring her teeth at the thought of the unseen man who’d dragged her into this nightmare. “Shouldn’t I know more about him?”  

“Best not – the more you know, the harder it is to fit in. Be blind, don’t think like a person – not outwardly, anyway.”  

 _Too much to tell, not enough time…_  

***** 

“Avoid the Organic Mechanic. He doesn’t believe in pain…and sometimes he likes to experiment. Better to fix yourself.”  

“Remember…this is not an escape for you. You’re devastated not to be a breeder. It’s a failure, a disgrace. You’re being demoted. But you’ll jump at any chance to serve the Immortan…got that?”  

There was a sudden hammering at the Vault door. Furiosa’s heart leapt into her throat, but the two women resumed their former attitudes by the window. She tried to breathe calmly, to remember all she’d been told, to play her part…  

The tattooed woman let the Organic Mechanic in, with his assistant. He looked flustered and indignant, his jowled face flushed and his grey hair wild. “Where’s the new breeder? What do I hear about her being crooked?” The Organic had been at the wrong end of Joe’s fists often enough to know not to offer him tainted merchandise. His assistant looked on with much interest.  

The tattooed woman took a breath and seized Furiosa by the stump. “This girl was born wrong. Her whole generation were missing limbs at birth.”  

“She tell you this?” he tutted in surprise. “Daft little bitch...just talked yourself out of a cushy life there, eh?”  

Furiosa looked up suddenly, looking stricken. “You tricked me!” she accused the tattooed woman. She sobbed a little for effect.   

“Wait, let me see” the Organic muttered, feeling he ought to pretend to some medical expertise. He took his hands out of his coat pockets and took Furiosa by the stump. “There’s a scar here – sure your arm wasn’t cut off?”  

Sobbing hysterically, Furiosa attempts to backtrack on her ‘mistake’. “Yes, it was cut off! I was confused. She tricked me!” pointing at the tattooed woman. The Organic looked at her suspiciously, shaking his head.   

The tall woman sneered. “She’ll say anything now she knows what she’s given up. Look at this scarring. It’s just from use. Never seen the Wretched drag themselves about on their stumps?”  

This point satisfied the Organic as to Furiosa, but he frowned as he tucked his chubby hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “The Immortan won’t be happy though. He’s badly short of Wives right now. Been ages since we’ve had only the one.” Then he brightened. “But then again, the Boys who brought her in – her and the older one – didn’t exactly go through the proper channels...” he winked his beady eye conspiratorially at the women. “Weren’t sure of the quality of the catch. And the old one got shredded along the way…sooo, no paperwork, eh?” he beamed, as if looking to be congratulated. “Makes my job easier anyway” he concluded.   

“We won’t say anything if you don’t” reassured the tattooed woman, forcing a smile. 

“So what to do with _her_ , eh?” the Organic nodded at Furiosa. She felt numb, as befitted the role she had to play.  

“Take her to the War Boys” the tattooed woman suggested. “She’s a bit of a scrapper by the look of her scars. Probably have to be tough with only one arm. And if not – well…” she tailed off. “But first…” she grabbed a pair of scissors, advancing on Furiosa who stepped away in alarm. “I have to cut her hair off.”  

“Hmm, can I have the hair when you’re done?” asked the Organic’s assistant. The tattooed woman ignored him. She took Furiosa’s shoulder, forcing her down on a bench, and commenced clipping. As her bloodied and tangled curls fell around her, Furiosa heard a whisper in her ear, barely audible. “I’m Giddy, she’s Lyra. Remember us.”   

**Author's Note:**

> My mental image of the old Organic is basically Jim Broadbent as Dr Rossi in 'Filth'. He's not quite as unpleasant as his young assistant, but he definitely lacks self-awareness and empathy.  
> Incidentally, 'Filth' is technically a comedy, but it is DAAARK. Be told.


End file.
